The Crimson Rope

by London Saint James

  I had a feeling we weren’t talking about his canvas trick any longer.

  “Bianca,” Jayce called, coming to my side, opposite his brother. “Oh, hey, Slater. Great exhibition. Interesting, to say the least. When mom and dad see this, they will be appalled.”

  “I’m sure they will,” he said, and left it at that.

  “Bianca,” Jayce started over. “Adam needs a ride home, so—”

  “Go on,” I said. “I’ll catch a cab.”

  “I don’t want you to do that,” Jayce said.

  “I’ll take her home,” Slater interjected.

  I stared at Slater, then at Jayce.

  “Are you good with that?” Jayce asked.

  “It’s fine. You want some alone time with Adam, and you don’t need me sticking around and being a third wheel.”

  Jayce gave his brother a stern glare. “Take her straight home and make sure not to drive like a bat out of hell.”

  Slater gave Jayce a smirk and held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Okay,” he said, then turned his attention to me. “Talk to you soon. Love you, Bunny.” He hugged me tight.

  “I love you too, Duckie.”

  Jayce’s lean body left me. And for a moment, warranted or not, I felt bereft. He walked away and blended into the crowd.

  “Why Duckie?” Slater asked.

  I turned to look at him. “We love Pretty in Pink.”

  “You’re not old enough to love that movie.”

  I sighed. “We rented it one night and it moved up on our list of oldies but goodies to watch again.”

  “Ah.”

  “The first time we saw that movie, Jayce couldn’t stop talking about Jon Cryer’s character of Duckie Dale, so—”

  “Duckie,” Slater muttered, shaking his head.

  “What are you muttering about?”

  “Nothing,” Slater said. “Is it true you dressed in a furry, white bunny costume for Halloween your freshman year in high school?”

  I felt my cheeks blush. “He told you that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I suppose it’s true.”

  “You suppose?”

  I waved my hand. “Okay. It’s true. But embarrassing.”

  “So it’s not embarrassing to be referred to as Bunny?”

  “No. The nickname is cute. How I got it is embarrassing.”

  “Why did you wear a bunny suit, then?”

  “It was a total misunderstanding on my part. I overheard some of the popular girls talking about dressing up as bunnies, so I scoured all the costume shops until I found, Hoppy.” I scrunched up my nose in disgust at my youthful stupidity and my misguided need to fit into a world of fake girls. “It wasn’t until I got to school that I realized they had a whole other type of bunny in mind. The kind with black stockings, bustiers and puffy white tails.”

  “Poor little Bunny.” He took a drink of his beer, then a drag on his cigarette. “Listen. I’m starving and was thinking about getting some waffles. What do you think about making a pit stop before I take you home?”

  Thank God he changed the subject.

  “I thought you gave your brother the scout’s honor promise of taking me straight home?”

  “Bianca,” he said. His voice lowered into velvety tones that persuaded chills from my skin. “I was never a Boy Scout.”

  “No. I’m sure you weren’t.”

  He chuckled. “Isn’t it summer break for the kindergarten teacher?”

  I inclined my head in answer.

  “No need to get up early, right?”

  “No. No need,” I agreed.

  “So are you in, or out?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Good,” he said. He put his cigarette out on the side of his bottle, dropping the mangled butt into the top. “Just give me twenty more minutes to close down the exhibit, and say my goodbyes. My manager will handle everything else, then we can go.”

  “Sure. I’ll just be sipping on my drink,” I said, holding up the glass and gripping it like a lucky charm to stave off the jitters.

  ****

  Slater drove us to an all-night diner, where we sat across from each other in a back booth. The smell of coffee and frying bacon filled the air. He ordered a large platter of waffles with a side of strawberries and I ordered the short stack of buttermilk pancakes. We ate and talked about art. His face lit up as he spoke. He did this thing with his hands, showing me the contrast from shadow to light.

  “Have you ever thought about being a teacher? Perhaps give a college art course?” I asked.

  Slater shook his head. “I’m not what you would call proper ‘teacher’ material.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like to play by the rules. You should know that about me.”

  “I do know that,” I said.

  “Do you?”

  I dropped my gaze, stared at my plate, and gave a half shrug. “Sure.”

  We reminisced about some of our younger years and all the time I’d spent in their home.

  “Did you know when mom went grocery shopping she always made sure to buy those damn Cheetos you liked so much.”

  “I didn’t know she bought them specifically for me, but I was always stoked to find packages of them in the cupboard.” I grinned. “Your mom is such a sweet woman.”

  “She’s always loved you.”

  I attempted an explanation as to why I practically lived there. “I came over so much because I hated being home.”

  Slater took a drink of his coffee. As he placed the cup back on the table, he wisely took our conversation in another direction. Perhaps he knew I actually hated to talk about my dysfunctional family. Or maybe the sadness of my youth still showed on my face, but he spoke about his short-lived time at art school instead. Some of his stories about sketching nude men who were proud of their packages, only to see them shrivel up while under the air-conditioning vent, made me laugh.

  As the conversation flowed into other subject matter, it became apparent we had the same eclectic taste in music, but what stunned me was his confession that came from left field.

  “I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he said.

  I dropped my fork. It clanked against the white plate. My brain worked over the word, beautiful.

  “Do you remember coming to the house to get ready for prom with Jayce?”

  “Um.” Don’t turn into a sixteen-year-old stuttering, monosyllabic girl, Bianca. “You’d come home from a backpacking trip abroad,” I quickly added, and hoped he didn’t notice my brain-fart.

  He nodded. “I remember how that blue dress hugged your little waist and how your hair tumbled over your shoulders in a soft caress of chocolate curls, and bounced against the creamy pallor of your porcelain skin.” Slater’s expression looked thoughtful. “I’ll never forget the way your eyes danced. In that dim light, your sky-blue gaze turned to silver.”

  “I—”

  “Your eyes are silver, tonight.”

  “They are?”

  Slater bobbed his chin. “I was so jealous of my brother, and perhaps I still am.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  “He got to spend time with you and still does.”

  I was taken aback. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything, Bianca.” He twisted around in the booth. “Check, please,” he called out to our waitress.

  ****

  After Slater paid the bill, we walked to his car in complete silence. His Dodge Charger stood out like a sore thumb in the almost empty parking lot. We stopped at the passenger side door. He hit the security lock on his keyless, unlocking the door. Slater was so close to me, I shared in his body heat. I breathed in the scent of his cologne. Bold. Spicy. The scent fit him.

  Slater’s hand brushed up against my arm. Without thinking, I attacked him. I was mouth, tongue, hands, and hips….

  My hands made their way over his shoulders, down his back, and touched his ass. I squee
zed. Slater let out a groan, but I swallowed the sound with my mouth. He tasted of sweet syrup and strawberries. I pressed my body against him, rubbing my leg up his. His arms slid around my waist. He enveloped me and rose to the occasion against my hip.

  Something kicked loose inside my scrambled brain. I realized we were in public. It had to be past two o’clock in the morning. The thought of whom I was kissing so wildly filled me with a pang of anxiety. I knew it wasn’t the best idea to be kissing the lips off my best friend’s womanizing brother.

  I pulled back from him, unsure what had happened. Perhaps hearing Slater tell me he thought I was beautiful pushed my already heated libido into overdrive. Perhaps I’d always wanted to hear him tell me such things. But whatever it was, I’d allowed my body to override my levelheaded demeanor.

  Slater looked a little dazed, but turned on for sure. “Well, shit,” he said, and swiped his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip. “Why did you stop?”

  I chuckled, nervously. “I guess I need to have better manners. I shouldn’t be groping you.”

  “You can grope me any place any time,” he said in a tantalizing voice.

  Slater opened my door, took my hand, and helped me in. His gaze seemed to linger on my legs. My awkwardness around Slater left as soon as I imagined it a tangible thing that I wadded up and threw away. I raised the hem of my dress, exposing my right thigh. Slater’s eyes widened. A smile started at the corners of his lips.

  “Don’t move,” he instructed. He slammed the door, and practically ran to the driver’s side, opening his door and jumping in. “Now.” He stared at me. Intensely. “Let me see.”

  I crossed my left leg over my right, raising the material of my dress, giving Slater a clear view of my bare skin. Slater’s gaze rested on my flesh before he followed the line of my leg. The way he looked at me sent a thrill through me. He reached out and placed his palm to the exposed portion of my upper thigh. His fingers twitched.

  “Nice…” he said in his low voice. “You have no idea how stunning you are in this light.” Slater curled his fingers around my thigh, tucking them in-between the folds of my crossed legs. “I want to put my mouth on you.” Slater’s fingers inched higher. I uncrossed my legs for him. His hand made it to my panties. Slowly, he pressed. “I want to put my mouth here.” His warm hand burned through my silk-lined crotch. “I want to…” he stopped. He was looking at me and licking his lips.

  “You want to what?” I asked, because I needed to hear him say the words. That disbelieving sixteen-year-old girl inside reared its ugly head, surpassing the twenty-eight year-old grown woman now sitting next to Slater. I had to hear Slater Nolan tell me he wanted me.

  Slater leaned in and whispered, “Bianca. You know what I want.”

  He was teasing me. He would have no qualms about telling me exactly what he wanted in full color detail.

  Slater’s hand moved again. His index finger slipped beneath the silk of my panties, then between my pouting lower lips.

  “Tell me what you want,” I said. I pressed myself into his hand.

  He rubbed my clit. I bit my bottom lip to hold back a moan.

  “Do you really want to hear what I want, my sweet?”

  “Uh huh,” I managed.

  “I want to rip these panties off your body, work my tongue between your folds, and eat your succulent pussy until you scream.” I came unhinged and shook. “Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Slater’s hand cupped me. “Are you sure?”

  I suspected Slater knew he was driving me crazy. I turned to look at him. His eyes were burning holes through me, but I met his gaze.

  “Yes, Slater. I want you to eat my pussy.”

  Slater groaned. He removed his hand and sat up straight in his seat. “Put your seatbelt on,” he said. He turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life.

  Slater broke his “scout’s honor” promise yet again. He drove like a bat out of hell, taking street after street until we were on the outskirts of the city. He came to a secluded spot with the perfect vista of the city lights, and parked. To my astonishment, he got out of the car. I watched as he opened my door. He held out a proffered hand. I took it. Within a blink of an eye, he picked me up and placed me on the hood of the car. In the next second, he had my hips pulled forward, skirt lifted, and had torn my pale blue panties off. Unabashed, I spread my legs. Slater never said a word. He dove into my pussy like he was ravenous. I moaned, lay back, and looked into the clear, night sky.

  The stars sparkled, impersonating the shine of the city. The moon, full and bright watched us. There was a slight breeze, warm and lurid that blew through my hair, sending pieces of it across my face and neck. My dress fluttered in the wind. I lifted my head and glanced down my body. My blue-grey dress billowed up, hit my chest, and rested. Slater’s head stayed between my wanting thighs.

  Lips and teeth played with my labia. He nibbled at me before he swirled his tongue around my clit. “Oh, God!” He was so good at that.

  Slater let out a low sound of pleasure then spoke against my burning flesh. “Spread yourself.” I reached down and opened my lower lips with my fingertips. His tongue established his dominance again. He plunged the tip of it into my opening, fucking me with his tender flesh. His hands reached up, covering my breasts over the tops of the lacy C-cups of my bra. My nipples strained against the material, begging to be liberated. With a kneading squeeze to both breasts, he released them. A mew of disappointment escaped my trembling lips.

  The bite of his fingers on my hips sent spikes of pleasure through me. Slater wrenched me forward more. I slid with ease over the pitch-black hood of the Charger. He held my hips, tugging me into his face, where he nuzzled, sucked, and licked me from top to bottom and back again. My body quivered. Heat swelled from my belly. It traced up my chest and neck. Slater drew back for a moment, and then I experienced the bliss of being penetrated. Two of his long fingers were plunged deep inside of me. I moaned.

  “Oh fuck, Bianca.” Without shame I push forward onto his hand. “Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, then his mouth pressed up against my hard nub. He lightly bit. I squirmed. “I’ve always known you’d be so receptive.”

  “Slater. That feels—” I couldn’t finish. I was completely breathless.

  Slater was pressing his long digits inside of me. When he located my sweet spot, he applied pressure. His tongue licked my clit in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers. He had me at his mercy, especially after he placed my pearl between his teeth and tugged. When he sucked the elongated fleshy tip, I knew he was going to make me come. My hands fell to my sides. A tremor shook my thighs. My pussy clinched. He yanked his fingers out of my body, stopped his tongue action, and slapped my pussy. My pert tip vibrated from the sting. I writhed and moaned.

  “Hungry little pussy. It likes it a little bit rough,” he growled.

  I bit at the inside of my cheek. “Mmmm….”

  He slapped me again. My sex fluttered. He flicked my clit in quick bursts and finger-fucked me hard. Oh, yes. I was going to come. Sprawled across the top of Slater’s black car, with my dress blowing up over my head.

  “God, Slater!”

  My body erupted like Krakatoa. Behind my closed eyelids the stars I’d been staring at earlier fell from the sky. They scattered over my body. Twinkling.

  Chapter Three

  In a tone that expected obedience, Slater said, “Be a good girl and stay like you are. Don’t move an inch.”

  I didn’t move. He bent. Kissed my belly button, and nipped the flesh beneath. My stomach jerked in reaction, but I forced myself to endure the pleasure. After one more scrape of his teeth across my hipbone, he straightened. He left me there, wanting, and went to the passenger door. He opened it. I saw him through the front windshield. He was doing something inside. When Slater came back to me, he had something in his hand. A condom. Seeing the little square package gave me pause. He actually carried a stash of condoms in the glove compartmen
t of his car. Did he do this sort of thing a lot? I pushed the thought aside when he reached out, touched me, and spoke.

  “You are my wet dream come to life.” What could I say to that? “Has anyone ever taken you here?” he asked.

  “Here,” was what felt like his thumb, applying pressure on the starburst of my anus. “No,” I admitted.

  Slater’s fingers swirled into my feminine juices, which he spread to my ass. The sensation of slick moisture coated my opening, followed by the pressure of his thumb. The stretching. The slow invasion. The insertion. I shook my head right to left. This was so wrong, but felt so good.

  “Will you give me your ass, Bianca?”

  “I-I. Okay.” I stopped clinching and relaxed. He changed up to a finger, probing in and out of me.

  “If you do this, there’s no going back. Be sure you want this.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He swatted my right ass cheek. I jumped. He swatted me again.

  “Then fuck my finger and do it now.”

  I felt flush. “I can’t—”

  “Take me.”

  Letting go, I followed his lead and did what he asked of me. It was even better, taking his finger as far as it would go.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed.

  “Give me a second.”

  He’d slipped his finger free.

  I sat up, legs dangling over the side of the car, my forbidden hole clinching on air. He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. I stared at his hard cock. It was thick and long and stood at attention as his leather pants went to his feet. Slater was sinfully delicious. The veins of his cock popped up beneath the silky-looking texture of his tight flesh. He stroked himself. I wanted him inside of my mouth. To feel my fingers wrapped around him. I needed to twirl my tongue around the wide head of his dick.

  I swiped my tongue over my lips and reached out to touch him.

  “No. Lie back,” he said, holding the base of his erect shaft.

  “But I want to—”

  “I know what you want.”

  “Then let me.”

  “You will have the pleasure of sucking my cock, but not tonight. Lie back, Bianca.”